


Strike One

by vicewithavice



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Bertolt freaks out, Fluff and Angst, Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 09:30:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1158028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vicewithavice/pseuds/vicewithavice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bertholdt doesn't react well to being touched. He's also a lot stronger than anyone gives him credit for.</p>
<p>Written for <a href="http://snkkink.dreamwidth.org/3666.html?thread=6582098#cmt6582098">this prompt</a> on the SNKkink meme</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strike One

Under the blazing summer sun, the 104th trainee squad hobbled to their bunks, wiping away the sweat and dirt that had gathered into their every fold of skin. Despite being in training for almost a year now, the days never became easier. Each morning started far too early, and they didn't fall into bed, muscles aching and chests heaving, until past midnight. It wasn't all bad, though; those who had stuck around this long had formed a tight bond, and even in their strictly monitored and scheduled days, there was still plenty of time to crack a joke out of earshot of their leader, and on more than one occasion someone had smuggled in a couple bottles of wine or beer to pass around the darkened barracks. 

For most of those soldiers, it was the happiest time of their lives. 

Bertholdt trudged several paces behind Reiner, feet dragging heavily through the dusty trail. It took a lot of effort to keep up with his companion when it came to the combat lessons. Bertholdt had the endurance, but when it came to brute strength, there was no competition. He liked these days, when his body and mind were so tired he could lay down in the ground and almost forget...

"You did a really good job today, Bertholdt." Reiner slowed his pace just enough to let Bertholdt catch up, then rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Bertholdt smiled wearily. He had done well, better than most of his team, but Reiner seemed to be the only one that noticed.

"Reiner, you kicked ass back there!" Connie said, bounding past the pair with his inexhaustible well of energy. He jogged backwards as he spoke. "Sasha said she saw the cooks come in with a shipment of meat, so you better get to the mess hall before the good stuff's gone." He took off again, kicking up dust.

"What do you think?" Reiner asked, squeezing Bertholdt's shoulder reassuringly. "Food first, then showers?"

Bertholdt mumbled happily and sank his weight into Reiner's side. 

 

\---

 

The mess hall was silent except for the slurping of water and the clatter of cutlery against plates. Barely anyone had the energy to speak, and only communicated by motioning with faltering hand movement when they wanted more salt or the water pitcher. The over-cooked and impossibly chew meat, a delicacy these days, given out only once a week or so, restored everyones stamina, and by the time the plates were emptied, a heavy buzz of conversation and laughter lingered throughout the hall. 

After Bertholdt had showered, he returned to his bunks in a vibrant mood, feeling well fed and properly clean for the first time in several weeks. He joined in on the lively conversations, even cracking a rare joke, though he mostly listened with a bemused expression to all the gossip that circulated through the dorms. He knew it was juvenile, but he'd never experienced the loud whispers and shocked looks that came from rumours, and enjoyed laughing at the ludicrous stories flying around. 

"I heard," Franz said in a conspirative voice, speaking low so everyone had to lean forward to hear, "that Eren and Mikasa were married when they were thirteen. It's a Japanese tradition to marry young." 

"Bullshit," Jean spat, literally turning his nose up. "There's no way that asshole is married, have you seen the way he acts around her? So clueless."

Marco snorted and shoved Jean playfully. "Like you'd know any better, you virgin." 

Bertholdt laughed with the rest of them as Jean's face turned bright red, and beside him he felt Reiner's torso heaving with barely concealed chuckles. He wondered how long things would be like this, so carefree and easy. Already things were changing. Reiner was slipping into his soldier persona more frequently, often times rushing to sit next to Krista or Mina. On those days, Bertholdt felt alone, not having formed any strong bonds over the year. That was Reiner's strong suit. On those days, Bertholdt was more reserved than usual, stuck in his mind. 

But at the end of each night, Reiner still slipped into Bertholdt's bed and held him throughout the nightmares, though sometimes it was the other way around, and if any of their roommates had something to say about it, no one had the balls to bring it up. 

 

\---

 

The next day was a free day. Those with family nearby were free to visit, granted they'd been on their best behaviour all month, but most ended up stuck at camp, taking a day to stroll around the grounds, or lounge in bed. For most, it was a long awaited relief from the nearly constant strain of training, but Bertholdt always regarded the day with paranoia. With so much free time, it didn't take much for his mind to wander to the past, or the cloudy and dark future, and he would quickly get sucked into his thoughts. Reiner, too, was more like to switch into his other self if he wasn't focused on an objective. It didn't help that Eren was storming around, still yelling about the titans. 

The cabins had felt stifling, but Bertholdt was beginning to regret his decision to take a solitary stroll through the woods now, even though he felt he needed some time away from the two hundred people that usually surrounded him. He found himself glancing around at every snap of a branch or rustle of a chipmunk through the grass. Even now, even six years later, he still couldn't shake himself free of his warrior training. Couldn't forget the harsh slap that came with each moment of hesitation, the poundings that followed a simple misstep. 

"Hey, Bertl." 

The sudden shock of a voice had him leaping in the air, fists at the ready and heart pounding in his ears. 

Sasha stepped out of the cover of trees, holding a still-squirming chipmunk in her hand and watching Bertholdt with a sign of amusement on her face. 

"You spook like a horse," she laughed, only just audible over the sound of rushing blood and heavy breathing. "Nearly jumped out of your skin. Relax."

Embarrassed, Bertholdt lowered his fists and tried to calm his breathing. "W-What are you doing out here?"

"Hunting." Sasha held out the chipmunk as proof. "You can have one, if you want. I've got plenty already, and I gave a few to Reiner earlier. A big guy like him must need a lot of food to keep up his energy. Maybe as much as me."

"Reiner was here?"

Sasha looked guilty, as though she'd betrayed a secret. She explained that he'd come by about an hour ago with Krista, and though she hadn't spoken to them much, it seemed as though he and Krista were having a good time together, that Reiner had smiled a lot and sometimes picked twigs out of her hair. 

"I thought it was strange," Sasha said, "because I was told that you and Reiner were, well… but he and Krista looked very happy. Ymir came by about two minutes after they left, fuming."

Bertholdt quickly came up with an excuse to take off, leaving Sasha standing stunned, chipmunk still in her hand. 

True, he and Reiner had never discussed the nature of their relationship. It started innocent, they were just kids when they met, but they came to depend on each other to get through the day. Sometimes it was simple shoulder massages, or comforting touches when no one was looking. When the nightmares came, Reiner would crawl into Bertholdt's bed and hold him until the shaking stopped and they both fell into a calm sleep.

When they became older, those touches turned to kisses, and late-night embraces turned to desperate fucks with the shutters closed and their mouths stuffed full of pillow or skin to keep from crying out. 

Throughout all that time, they'd never talked about it. Even though Bertholdt sometimes glanced at a girl walking by in a short skirt or sweaty shirt, his thoughts never wandered past the moonlit images of Reiner underneath him, naked and panting and silently mouthing Bertholdt's name. 

And Reiner had never shown the slightest interest in women, not even in their first week here when they'd accidentally stumbled into the girl's showers. This new Reiner, however, this soldier, acted as though he and Bertholdt were nothing more than new friends, two strangers that had met for the first time at orientation, and as much as Bertholdt didn't want it to hurt when Reiner lost himself, it did. 

Bertholdt went to bed early that night, and when he woke up from his nightmare in the middle of the night, sweating and shaking, Reiner was in his own bed, facing away and snoring indifferently. 

 

\---

 

The next morning, Bertholdt woke before the five a.m. alarm. The sun was just peeking through the windows, and the dust in the room sparkled beautifully in the light. 

"Hey."

Bertholdt rolled over to see Reiner already awake though heavy lidded, watching him with a small smile on his face. "You're all the way over there."

"Yeah," Bertholdt rubbed the sleep from his eyes, buying himself time to decide whether he should explain what happened yesterday. Reiner knew about his other self, but it always shocked him to learn when he'd slipped into it, and often felt guilty and apologetic for hours afterwards. "I was just really warm laying next to you, so I moved over here to cool off."

If Reiner could tell Bertholdt was lying, he didn't question it. He must've guessed it though, because throughout breakfast, Reiner was sitting even closer than usual, his side nearly flush along Bertholdt, making it nearly impossible to eat, and often placing light touches on the small of his back. 

"I heard we're doing more hand-to-hand combat today." Armin said from the next table over. This solicited many groans from everyone in the surrounding area. 

"Awww, come on," Jean whined, slamming his fist on the table. "We haven't been in our 3DMG in weeks, and I'm itching to feel those swords in my hands again."

"If he really wanted to train for the Military Police," Eren said, making sure he was loud enough for Jean to hear, "he'd be better off handing off his cleaning chores to someone else and spending his day drinking in the staff lounge."

"Fuck you, Eren!"

"Fuck you too, Jean!"

After that, breakfast was cut short by a supervisor and everyone was sent out for the day's training.

 

\---

 

On combat training days, Bertholdt was even more likely to take a backseat approach, more comfortable watching than participating. More than anything, it was these exercises that reminded him of home: the fields full of young children fighting each other, where winning didn't mean a reward but an absence of pain. True, he didn't find anyone here to be a decent fight, except Annie and perhaps Mikasa, and he'd sparred so many times with Reiner that they'd memorized the other's fighting styles, usually ending in a stalemate. 

"Bertholdt!" Eren was jogging towards him, limping a little on one knee. "You have to help me beat Reiner. Just once. You know him better than anyone."

"Oh, well…" There was no way to get out of it. He'd always been polite to Eren, it wouldn't make sense to outright reject him. Even though Eren wasn't particularly skilled, he had the most determination Bertholdt had seen in anyone, and if Eren found out too soon… The boy was a loose cannon, surely capable of anything. "Sure."

Eren charged immediately, running recklessly with the wooden knife. It was no wonder he couldn't take out anyone: he was attacking with power, not strategy, his feet carrying him full tilt. The method might work against those with no combat experience, or against small children, but it was useless against someone with an extra half-foot of height and seventy-odd pounds on his frame. 

Bertholdt ducked low, grabbed Eren's outstretched arm, then hauled the boy's weight onto his shoulders, using the momentum to send them crashing backwards. If Bertholdt had been trying, there would have been a large blood stain on the ground and possibly a broken neck. 

"You're fast," Bertholdt explained, helping Eren to his feet. "But focus on taking out your opponent first. Aim for the knees." 

The fighting was too much for Bertholdt. He turned before Eren could fully right himself, and took off towards the fence, hoping for a moment without the grunts and cries of frustration of his peers. The memories were flooding back again, and this time he couldn't force them down. He remembered standing in a group, much smaller than his squad now, and learning not to disarm, but to kill. A tall man observed every movement, and it wasn't until he and Reiner were settled into their bunks that he could feel the numbness of his fingers from squeezing necks all day. 

"I don't want to kill anyone," he had said quietly, speaking so only Reiner could hear. 

"We'll do what we have to," Reiner answered. "Warriors will do whatever it takes for the greater good. But for now," his hands disappeared into Bertholdt's pyjama pants, "I'll help keep it off your mind."

Sometimes, Bertholdt wished he could just become a new person, to block out the past and create a new persona, but if it meant sacrificing those memories with Reiner, and forgetting all those happy moments they'd shared when things couldn't be darker, the option didn't seem so appealing. 

"Bertholdt, wait!"

He felt a hand grasp his wrist, and then he felt nothing. 

-

The darkness behind his eyes slowly dissipated, and behind him he heard a quiet murmur of curious whispers. He blinked a few times, then took in the scene. 

Eren was laying on the ground unconscious, a bruise already swelling around his jaw and, oh god, was that a tooth in the grass next to him? A crowd was forming now, and Mikasa was bounding in front, dropping to her knees to observe Eren.

"What did you do?" She yelled, her eyes brimming with tears and fire. 

"I… I…" it was all he could offer, he had no idea. If it wasn't for the blooming pain in his fist, Bertholdt wouldn't have known it was he who sent Eren to the ground. "I don't know. I'm so sorry, I don't remember…."

He looked around hopelessly. Half the group was still fighting, unaware of what was going on, and Reiner was on the complete other side of the field. "I…"

"Eren came running up behind you." It was Mina that spoke, half hidden behind Franz as if she thought Bertholdt would lash out again. "He grabbed your wrist, and you yelled something and spun around. And then you punched him. Hard." She shuddered. "We all stopped when we heard the crack." 

Bertholdt stared at his hand as if it would show him the answers. All he saw were bloody and swollen knuckles. He tried flexing his fingers, but his joints protested. 

"I'm so sorry," he said again, wishing there was something else he could add. A thin line of blood trickled from Eren's mouth. "I'll help him to the infirmary." 

"Stop." Mikasa swatted him away, and with a heave, lifted Eren into her arms. "You've done enough."

One of the captains came jogging up to the crowd and sent them back to their assignments. "I didn't expect that from you," he said, pulling Bertholdt aside. "I believe you when you say it was an accident, but you gotta go easy out there. Take a breather for a bit, alright?" The captain raised his hands to clap Bertholdt on the shoulder, but obviously thought better of it. He turned on his heel and walked away just as Reiner came up.

"Are you alright?" He lightly grabbed Bertholdt's hand and inspected the damage. "It doesn't look so good."

"It looks better than Eren's jaw." 

Bertholdt sighed and sank to the ground. The adrenaline that had been coursing through him was settling now, and he felt tired. 

"What happened?" Reiner prompted, sitting crossed-legged across from Bertholdt. "That Eren kid, did he grab you, or blindside you? I was sparring with him earlier, but he took off in your direction." 

"It wasn't his fault, Reiner," as he spoke, he was acutely aware that Reiner was sitting farther than him from usual. He couldn't decide if the distance made him feel better or worse. "He just wanted my attention." 

"So? Didn't anyone teach that kid you don't sneak up on someone behind their back?"

Bertholdt sat quietly as Reiner continued his rant, raking his good hand through the grass and wishing he could be sitting here with Reiner under different circumstances. If they didn't share the same secret, would they be as close? Or if they had grown up in different towns, would they have met here anyways, would they have still become friends. He thought maybe, just maybe, it was worth all the bad just to have Reiner in his life. 

 

\---

 

That night Bertholdt skipped supper and headed straight to his bunk, growling stomach be damned. He couldn't stand the looks anymore, the glances over shoulders and craning necks. Everyone wanted a glimpse of him now, he who had been overlooked the entire year. He was strong, he knew that and so did Reiner, but because he was content to sit quietly in the back, give the lead to someone else, it wasn't until now that everyone else was noticing. 

"He's always placed top five in our marked assignments." The guys were streaming in from supper now, not knowing or caring that Bertholdt was wide awake in his bed. "But I barely see him in action." 

"Remember how well he did on the endurance test? He and Mikasa were neck and neck the entire time." 

"It's just hard to picture a guy like him with so much power. Armin said Eren's jaw was fractured."

"Then I'll have to thank ol' Bertl for shutting him up for a while!" 

"I asked Reiner what made Bertholdt snap like that." Bertholdt couldn't tell who was talking now, maybe Christian. He strained his ears to listen in. "He said Bertl had a rough childhood, and he doesn't like being touched because of it." 

"That's strange. Reiner's always so close to him."

"Yeah, but it's different with Reiner, dumbass. They're together."

There were a couple loud exclamations of disbelief. The cabin broke out into a heated conversation of whether or not a guy like Reiner could possibly be gay, and who else in their squad was gay, and Bertholdt felt so cooped up in his bed that he jumped down from the top bunk, ignoring the deep blushes of everyone he walked past.

The air outside was refreshing on his overheated skin. It rushed through his lungs and cooled the burning on his knuckles. In the distance, he could see the unmistakable shuffle of Reiner approaching, carrying something under his arm. Bertholdt watched with interest as Reiner was thrown into the light of the porch. In his hand was a large cloth filled with warm smelling breads and fish. 

"Figured you'd be hungry." He handed Bertholdt a roll. "Sorry I'm late, I was at the infirmary." 

Bertholdt swallowed a large mouthful of bread. "What did you say to the poor guy?"

"I didn't threaten him. Much." Reiner smiled. "I just checked in on him. I feel bad for the guy, you know?"

"Mmm."

The pair ate in silence under the moonlight, not caring about the patrolman that would certainly come by and send them back into their cabin. In the darkness, Bertholdt could almost mistake this place for his home village, all rustling trees and gentle slopes, but when he closed his eyes he felt a million miles away. Even though all this training was just the another step in the plan that had been set out for him at birth, he'd never felt happier. He had friends here, and food on his plate each meal and a sense of autonomy that had been crushed many years before. There was still the guilt, it would never go away, it was a part of him, and the future held nothing but certain death. 

He pushed those thoughts from his head. He still had two years left of training, and everyone would forget about what happened earlier. Everyone would probably be afraid of him for a little while, they'd definitely avoid approaching him when he was alone, but he knew within weeks it would be a story they laughed about, because that's what normal kids did. They moved on, they put experiences behind them and looked forward to the next big adventure. 

And for once in his life, Bertholdt felt like one of them.

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I was done writing fanfiction but I saw this prompt and whoops here we are. Please excuse any rustyness and my complete lack of experience with AO3. There is a learning curve and I'm tobogganing down it.


End file.
